


Where I Stand

by Edge_of_Clairvoyance



Series: The Older Brother Verse [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Comfort/Angst, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Family, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Non-Consensual Spanking, POV Original Character, Parent-Child Relationship, Pre-Series, Pre-Series Dean Winchester, Pre-Series Sam Winchester, Punishment, Spanking, Teen Dean Winchester, Teenchesters, Weechesters, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 08:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17261168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edge_of_Clairvoyance/pseuds/Edge_of_Clairvoyance
Summary: "Dad, is this the best time-""The best time to get through to Dean about handling a responsibility he's given? Damn right it is. I'm not letting it slide, Connor. I can spare ten minutes to make sure he has his priorities straight. Get the strap."





	Where I Stand

**Author's Note:**

> The story contains disciplinary spanking of minors and foul language - as always, your choice whether to read or not!
> 
> I strongly recommend you read [Beneath Your Wings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15178313) before reading this story, as it will introduce you to this AU.
> 
> [ToscaRossetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToscaRossetti/pseuds/ToscaRossetti), [alexofthegarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexofthegarden/pseuds/alexofthegarden) and [CrazedPanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazedPanda) took the time and effort to beta this work, say thankee!

When Connor came back into the motel room, he found Dean exactly where he had left him at the kitchenette table with the books and papers spread all over it, scribbling on the legal pad, his brows set into concentrated lines. He barely gave his older brother an acknowledging glance as Connor started putting the groceries away in the cabinets and fridge.

"How's it going?" Connor asked.

"Fine," Dean didn't raise his head.

"Sam's not back yet?"

"Nope."

Connor gave up on the small talk and finished stocking the groceries. It wasn't like he had had any significant conversation with either of his brothers over the last few days, anyway; Dad had everybody wrapped up helping him prepare for the hunt he was about to set out for this afternoon, with Connor running all over the tri-county area for supplies and car parts and ammunition, while Dad chased leads and hustled pool for easy cash in every last dive bar, and Sam and Dean were each tasked with a thick lore book, of which they needed to glean any and all relevant information.

Sam was done first, of course, and Dad had reluctantly allowed him to go to a book club meeting at the local library. The library was only a few blocks down the street from their motel, and Sam was capable of fending for himself at twelve years of age, so he was allowed to walk back alone, as long as he returned before dark and made sure he had his butterfly knife with him at all times.

Connor set the coffee machine and took his boots off with a sigh of relief. When the pot was full, he poured some for himself and for Dean. The kid was trying his best to get used to taking it black and bitter like Dad and Connor did, but Connor dumped some sugar in it nonetheless, because Dean looked like he could use the extra energy. Dean's head remained buried in the book when Connor placed the mug by his elbow, he only hummed a short "thanks" and almost tipped the mug over blindly reaching for it.

Connor shrugged, took a sip from his own cup and sat down to go over the contents of the weapons duffle Dad was going to take along with him. He managed to get both pure zinc bullets that would kill a narax, if that was what Dad was after, and also some nickel-tipped arrows that would fit Dad's crossbow and a jar of fresh oak sap to dip them in, in case the creature turned out to be a valax. The evidence wasn't conclusive yet as to what exactly needed to be iced, which was why Dad stressed the boys' research was so vital in the first place.

The lock clicked and Dad came in, dropping a canvas bag on the floor. "I'm heading out soon. Lyle will be waiting to meet me in four hours' time." He looked around. "Sam's still at the library?"

"Yes, sir. The meeting ends at six-thirty," Connor said.

Dad grimaced. "If he gets that face of his because I didn't say goodbye, tell him I was more than willing, except he wasn't here."

"Sure, Dad," Connor didn't bother to mention that Dad often left when the boys were asleep or at school, and Sammy was bitch-facing less and less about it.

Dad went to pour himself some coffee and peeked over Dean's shoulder. "I'll need those notes in a bit, Dean."

"Yes, sir," he was scribbling faster now.

Dad chugged down his coffee while gathering a change of clothes and vanished into the bathroom. He emerged about ten minutes later, still toweling his hair, and strode over to pour himself another cup.

Connor got to his feet and wordlessly held the weapons duffle open for Dad's inspection; it wasn't like Connor didn't know how to pack weapons for a hunt, but he didn't mind satisfying Dad's need to be on top of everything.

"Okay," Dad said as he nodded his approval. "Now let's take a look at those notes."

He came to Dean's side and bent over the papers. Dean moved back and stared anxiously up at Dad's face.

"Those're Sam's notes?" Dad asked.

"Yes, sir."

Dad nodded slowly while leafing through the bundle of papers and sipping the last of his coffee. "Where're yours?"

Connor could see Dean's face tensing up as he held up the legal pad. Dad flipped through it, went back, then forward again, and then looked at Dean. "That's it?"

"Yes, sir. I-"

"How far did you get with the book?" Dad didn't wait for an answer as he grabbed the open tome from the table. "That's not even _half_ , Dean."

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"You didn't what? You didn't work on it like you should have?"

"I did, I worked on it-"

"Then how come you only managed _this_ much?!" Dad slammed the legal pad down on the table and Dean winced. "You had three fucking days, Dean. _Three_. No school, no training, no chores, just the fucking research."

"I'm sorry," Dean was tilting in his seat away from Dad, trying to make it look like he wasn't. "I tried, I did-"

"And just one book, was all I asked. Your brother got it done in less than two days."

"Sammy's smart," there was no defiance nor envy in Dean's voice.

Dad shook his head. "You could've done this. What were you up to? TV? That girl from reception? Sleeping your ass off?" Dean dropped his eyes and Dad huffed an irritated breath. "I thought I could trust you with this."

Dean looked up again. "You can trust me, Dad." His tone was almost pleading.

"Really? Because I thought that maybe finding information that would keep me safe on a hunt was a little more important than chasing tail or watching the eightieth rerun of 'Baywatch'."

"It is."

"Well, it doesn't fucking seem like it!" Dad straightened up and glared at Dean, who had shriveled in his seat. "It doesn't fucking seem like you were doing the best you could've done. It doesn't seem like you even understand what I'm talking about. But you're going to." He paused for a second, gaze fixed on Dean. "Get the strap."

Dean's eyes widened and his fingers flexed some, as if he was searching for something to grab on to. Connor decided to speak up.

"Dad, is this the best time-"

Dad turned to him. "The best time to get through to him about handling a responsibility he's given? Damn right it is. I'm not letting it slide, Connor. I can spare ten minutes to make sure he has his priorities straight. _Get the strap_!"

That last sentence was barked at Dean, who nearly knocked his chair over in a hurry to get up. He retrieved the strap from his duffle and returned to the kitchenette, where Dad waited, hand held out for the strap.

Dean stopped just a step beyond Dad's reach, his eyes flickering up, tongue momentarily protruding to wet his lips.

"You have something you wanna say?" Dad asked.

Dean stared for a few seconds more, clearly on the verge of speaking, and then seemed to change his mind. He stepped forward and put the strap in Dad's waiting hand. "No, sir. Just that I'm sorry for slacking, sir."

Dad nodded and jerked his head at the table. Dean came to stand by it, undid his jeans and pushed them down to his knees, followed by his boxers. He bent over the table and leaned on his forearms.

Dad held the strap in his right hand while he put the left on Dean's back. His voice came out surprisingly composed. "You might not like it, but research is an important part of hunting, Dean. You need to know what you're up against, what to watch out for, and how to kill it. If there is ever a time when you'll be hunting alone, your life could depend on the quality of your own research as much as it would on your fitness, or wits, or capability to handle weapons. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," Dad swiped up the hem of Dean's shirt and took a step back, touched the strap to Dean's thigh and lifted it high into the air above his shoulder.

It came crashing down on Dean's ass, the sound of leather hitting bare flesh bouncing off the walls. Dad brought it down again, and Dean winced with the impact, but stayed quiet.

Connor watched as Dad methodically raised and landed the strap, leaving red stripes across Dean's rear that had soon merged together into a fiery splotch which was getting continuously darker. The utter silence between the swats was punctuated by the little breaths Dad exhaled with the effort, and Dean's tiny whimpers.

Dean had dropped his head to rest on his arms and his shoulders hunched up around his ears. He was flinching with every stroke of the strap, but other than that, kept his position like he was supposed to.

He didn't need to keep it for long; the whipping was efficient yet short. Dad finished it off by applying three swats to the tops of Dean's thighs, and then let out a breath and draped the strap over the back of a kitchen chair. He rubbed a hand over Dean's back. "We're done. C'mere."

Dean pushed himself up and Dad pulled him to his chest, resting a hand on the back of his neck as Dean leaned against him.

"It's okay, it's okay, son. You'll try harder, won't you?"

"Yes, sir," the words came out whispered between hitched breaths and Dad squeezed Dean a little closer, giving his back a few more rubs, and then shoved him gently away and motioned for him to pull his pants up.

"Sit back down, you're gonna finish this."

Dean wiped an arm over his cheeks as he returned to his chair and gingerly lowered himself onto the seat. Dad tore the written pages off the legal pad, and handed it back to Dean.

"I should still have connection at least until Lyle and I go into the hill area," Dad said. "Anything new you have, you call and let me know. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy," Dad leaned to drop a light kiss on the top of Dean's head.

There was no more talk as Dad finished packing his things. Dean had resumed his scribbling, sniffling once or twice and only glancing up as Dad was by the door with his bags.

"Bye, boys. Dean, behave. Connor, watch out for them."

"Yes, sir," they chorused, and Dad gave them a half-smile and shut the door behind him.

Connor went to check the salt-line and listened to the rumble of the Impala as it drove away. He glanced over at Dean; his little brother was hard at work, eyes leaping from book to notepad, one hand turning the pages and the other running the pen over the paper. This was going to be a long evening, and Connor dumped the remains of his coffee into the sink and started a fresh pot.

Sam was back as the sun hovered low over the horizon. He dropped his backpack by the door and looked around. "Dad already left?"

"Yeah. Said to tell you he says goodbye," Connor replied.

"Thanks," Sam looked at Dean and his eyebrow rose some. "If Dad's gone on the hunt, why're you still doing the research?"

"I got some chapters left, and Dad said I could finish it until he goes off the grid and call him if I have anything new," Dean said, not raising his eyes from the book, his tone light and casual.

"You didn't finish it before he got back?"

"No."

"And he wasn't… was he mad?" There was a slight worry to Sam's voice, and Connor straightened up some in his seat, coffee momentarily forgotten.

"Nah, he was cool," Dean still kept his eyes on his work and his voice light, and the feeling of _wrongness_ strengthened in Connor's stomach.

"He was?" Sam was eyeing Dean warily. "You're talking about Dad, right?"

"Yeah, Sammy, everything's fine," now Dean did look up to give his younger brother a reassuring grin; and if Sam knew Dean at least half as well as Connor did, he saw right through it.

Sam strode over to the table and reached for the lore book. Dean slammed it closed, but Sam had managed to slide his fingers to mark the page Dean had reached. He snatched the book from the table and opened it.

"That's hardly half, Dean," he said. "You're telling me he was cool with that?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm tellin' you, so lay off," Dean got up from his chair and turned to the fridge. "I'm getting myself some OJ, you want any?"

Sam watched him, then put the book down on the table, and as Dean had his back to him, Sam swatted his butt once, hard.

"Sonovabitch!" Dean jolted and spun on his heel to stare at Sam, hands reaching to rub his backside.

"He whipped you," Sam's voice was starting to tremble. "He whipped you because you didn't finish the research."

"Sam-"

"You said you had it covered, you said you could _do_ it."

Connor didn't know what they were talking about, but heavy suspicion was crawling inside his gut and he got up from the bed and walked over to where his brothers stood.

"What's this about, Sam?" He asked. Both boys looked up at him.

"Nothing," Dean said. "Sammy here's just upset I'm not going full geek like he does, and I keep telling him he'll never get any chicks-"

"Sam," Connor was talking quietly, but in a tone that brooked no argument. "What's going on?"

Sam was staring at him wordlessly, but Connor was starting to get an idea about this. Right when Sam looked like he was about to talk, Dean stepped forward to stand between him and Connor.

"Leave him alone, okay? This has got nothing to do with you."

"Anything that's got to do with you two has got to do with me," Connor replied. "And I'm talking to Sam now. Sammy," he regarded his youngest brother around Dean's body. "What's got you so upset about Dean not finishing the research? You finished your part, so wh-" he had to pause as it all clicked into place. Sam was still looking at him with those big, hazel eyes. "You didn't finish your part, did you? Dean finished it for you."

"You're fucking delusional, man," Dean was trying to sound amused, but his grin was crooked and his voice wavering. "Me, doing Sammy's homework? Like that's _ever_ gonna happen."

Connor ignored Dean and kept his eyes locked with Sam's. "What Dad thought were your notes weren't yours, were they?"

Sam shook his head, slowly.

"But I saw you working on something, what was it?"

"Sam, don't answer that," Dean had already lost the grin.

"Part research, part notes for the book club," Sam said in a low voice.

Connor nodded. "And you made Dean do the rest so you could go to that book club?"

"He didn't _make_ me," Dean snorted. "The squirt can't _make_ me do anything."

Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that, Connor thought. "Then what, you offered?"

Dean straightened his back, staring at Connor as if challenging him. "Yeah, I did. 'Cause Dad wouldn't've let him go to the goddamned nerd club, so I made sure he went. You got a problem with that?"

"I got a problem with you taking the rap for him."

"I wasn't taking no rap for him. I said I'd get my part of the research done and I didn't."

"Because you were busy getting his part done," Connor looked at Sam again. "Did you really think Dean could pull this off, Sam? Did you think he could've made it?"

"He said… he said he could…" but Sam didn't sound certain.

"He's big on talking, you should've known that. And you should've known he'd never finish on time, not when he had almost all his book to cover and only one day to do it. You knew he wouldn't make it."

"I didn't know," Sam was blinking hard, tears already creeping into his voice. "I didn't know, I didn't-"

"Yeah, you did," Connor was still talking calmly, but he took a step forward and Dean pushed Sam behind his back. "You know Dean. You know how he does with anything that looks like schoolwork. You knew he wouldn't have been able to finish his part, but you let him go through with it anyway."

Sam shook his head, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"Dad whipped him," Connor said, even more quietly. "Because he thought Dean was slacking on the job, that he was watching TV, or sleeping, or chasing girls instead of working. Dad whipped him because you let him believe Dean didn't-"

"Stop it," Dean was pale, his voice unsteady. "Stop it, it's not like that, it's not Sammy's fault, stop twisting it around."

"Am I twisting it around, Sam? Look at me," Connor added as Sam's eyes slipped away. "Tell me it's not what happened. Tell me you didn't want to go to that book club bad enough that you'd just recklessly let your brother take a fall for you?"

Sam wasn't even trying to stop the tears now, didn't even lift a hand to wipe them away. "I'm sorry," his voice was barely audible. "I'm sorry, Dean, I'm so sorry."

Dean turned to him and put both his hands over Sam's arms. "What for? You didn't do nothing. Don't be sorry, kiddo, it's fine." He rubbed Sam's arms lightly, and then glanced over his shoulder at Connor. "Are you gonna call Dad? I made it look like Sam's handwriting, Dad would never notice if you don't tell him. Please don't say anything."

"He should know the truth. He should know you weren't slacking."

"It doesn't matter now, okay? He beat my ass, and as far as he's concerned we're good. You're gonna make him feel bad about it, he'll be upset on the hunt, and then he's gonna take it all out on Sam's ass when he returns. It serves nothing, Connie. It's over, so just leave it alone."

Connor had to admit it made sense, in a way. He let his eyes wander away for a minute, and they fell upon the strap, still hanging off the back of the kitchen chair. He looked at it for a moment longer, and then back at his brothers. Dean followed Connor's gaze, and turned to face him again, pushing Sam back so violently he was nearly knocked into the counter.

"Don't you even fucking _think_ about it," Dean growled.

"Dad didn't let it slide for you, and I'm not gonna let it slide for Sam."

Dean moved a step back, pushing Sam even farther away from Connor. "You so much as fucking go near him with that thing, and I swear I-"

"I'm not gonna use the strap on him." Connor again addressed Sam, who was peeking at him behind Dean's back. "Come here, Sam. You have this coming."

"Get the fuck away from him," Dean reached a hand back to shove Sam out of Connor's sight, but Sam grabbed his arm. "The hell, Sam? Just keep-"

"No," Sam was talking quietly, but firmly. He looked up at Dean. "Connor's right."

Dean gawked at him. "You're actually falling for this?" He glanced aside at Connor. "Quit fucking with his head, he's a little kid-"

"I'm not," Sam said, tightening his hold on Dean's arm and making him return his gaze to him. "I'm not just a little kid, Dean. I knew what I was doing. I knew there was a big chance you wouldn't finish the research, and if so, Dad would be pissed at you. I knew it and I went with it anyway. I guess I just-" he stopped to take a breath. "I was just too selfish. And I'm sorry, I really am."

He let go of Dean's arm and slowly, carefully, took a step around him, and then another. Dean stayed where he was, eyes following his little brother, lips trembling. As Sam came all the way from the sanctuary Dean had provided, Dean reached out his hand.

"No, Sammy," he sounded like he was hardly keeping his voice from breaking. "You don't deserve this." He looked up at Connor. "He doesn't deserve this. He deserves to have a little bit of normal life, to hang out with normal kids in a normal geeky book club, not having to look up how many ways some fucking monster can rip you apart. He doesn't deserve that, Connor."

Sam moved hesitantly, slowly, toward Connor and away from Dean's outstretched hand. When he finally came to stand by his eldest brother, Connor put his own hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Dean, go into the bathroom," he said.

"No," Dean wasn't trying to control the tremble in his voice anymore. "Don't punish him. I don't care if Dad whipped me, I probably had it coming anyway, you can't-"

"Go into the bathroom, please, Dean," it was Sam, sounding as pleading as Dean did with Dad before. "Please go."

Dean stared at him for a long moment and then let out a breath. "Damn it, Sammy." He rubbed a hand over his face, inhaled, and started moving. Connor had the feeling Dean was straining not to look at Sam and him as he passed them by. Dean reached the bathroom door, opened it, paused for a minute, and looked back over his shoulder.

"You can say whatever you want, Connie," he said. "I'd do it all over again if I had the choice." With a last glance at Sam, he went into the bathroom and shut the door.

Connor looked at Sam. His little brother looked back, but his eyes flickered momentarily to the strap.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna use that," Connor said.

"Maybe you should," Sam was nearly whispering, and then tightened his lips and averted his gaze, and Connor felt his chest clench. He squeezed Sam's shoulder.

"Come on."

He walked Sam to one of the beds and sat down, and Sam came to stand on his right side, already unzipping his jeans. Connor glanced over to the strap, then back to Sam, and reached for his belt buckle.

Sam froze mid-motion with his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his pants and his eyes widened as they fixed on Connor's belt being slid from its loops.

"Dean really didn't deserve that whipping, Sam," Connor said. "So I'm gonna give you a taste of it. Four with the belt at the end of your spanking."

Connor could see Sam's fingers tightening on the fabric of his pants for a second before he nodded and pushed them down along with his boxers. He braced his hands on Connor's thigh, and carefully leaned forward until he was draped over his brother's lap.

Connor adjusted Sam's body over his knees and took hold on his waist. It had been a long while since he last had to spank Sam, and he wasn't happy about doing so now. Nonetheless, he raised his right hand and let it crash down on Sam's upturned butt.

Sam winced and grabbed the bedspread with both hands. Connor raised his hand again, landed it again, and repeated. It took a few more swats to get the sensation of the right strength and pace; he was too used to having Dean over his knee, too used to wielding the strap. Maybe he was too used to accepting that it would be Dean's fault if the research wasn't done on time. Why didn't it seem weird to him that Dean hadn't finished his part of the research when Connor had seen him practically glued to the damned chair every time he returned to the room from another supply run?

He could feel the anger fueling his hand as he laid on the next few swats somewhat harder, and Sam flinched and whimpered. Connor made himself take a breath and ease the intensity a little bit. Yes, he was mad at Sam, but he was now angrier at himself. Sam should pay for what he did, but not for Connor's oversight.

He kept the smacks even from then on, covering all of Sam's backside with sharp slaps – it wasn't all that hard, with the kid being as short and skinny as he was. Soon enough his pale skin took on a deep pink hue that deepened into cherry red as Connor kept going. Sam wasn't fighting or even trying to reach a hand back to fend off the attack on his ass, but he did wince with the swats over Connor's lap, hands fisted into the bedspread, face pressed into the bed to stifle his sobs.

When Connor felt like Sam had enough – it was much, much sooner than it would have happened with Dean, but his baby brother's tolerance for pain was no match for his middle brother's – he stopped and rubbed Sam's back. He could feel Sam relaxing a bit with the touch, even though his chest was hitching hard against Connor's thigh.

"We're not done," Connor said quietly. Sam's back heaved as the kid took a few deep breaths.

Connor picked up the belt he had laid on the bed by his side, doubled it over and grabbed both ends while again taking hold of Sam's waist with his other hand. Then he brought the belt down.

He didn't do it too hard, but he didn't have to; Sam nearly jolted, letting out a smothered cry. Connor waited for him to settle before landing the belt again, holding Sam down with his left hand.

The bathroom door swung open and Dean stormed out, halting at the threshold as he took in the sight before him.

"What the fuck," he took a step forward and halted again. "What the _fuck_ , Connor! You said you wouldn't use that on him!"

"It's not the strap, it's a belt. Get back in the bathroom."

"Semantics," Dean took another step forward. "It's leather, it's long and narrow and it's fucking _painful_."

"Get back in the bathroom, I'm not gonna tell you again."

"And you put that away, I'm not gonna tell you-"

"Dean, don't," Sam's voice was teary and strained, but his words clear. "It's just four licks. I can take it. Already took two. Let Connor finish it, it's okay."

"No, Sammy. He spanked you, that's enough. He shouldn't have guilt-tripped you into taking a belt-"

"Dean, _please_ ," Sam propped himself up on his elbows. "You took a whipping because of me. _For_ me. And I know it wasn't for the first time. Please let him finish. Please."

Dean was breathing hard but he took a little step back and braced a hand against the door frame. His eyes were giving Connor a death-glare. "Fucking finish it, then."

Sam let his torso sink back to the bed, his face hidden in his crossed arms. Connor raised the belt, landed it, felt Sam twitch over his lap, saw from the corner of his eye Dean wincing along with him. He tightened his grip on the belt for the last swat and applied it on Sam's sit-spots, drawing a cringe and a sob from his brother. He dropped the belt on the bed and started rubbing Sam's back.

"We're done," Connor said, not realizing he was about to echo Dad's words until he did. "We're done, Sammy."

Dean walked over to kneel by the bed. He slid an arm under Sam's head and cradled it as Sam turned his face to rest in the crook of Dean's neck. Dean leaned his own head against Sam's and lifted his other hand to stroke Sam's hair.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean murmured. "It's okay, all over now, you're okay."

Connor went on rubbing Sam's back and listening to Dean humming the words he so often heard from Dad when the old man was soothing him after a harsh whipping, and all of a sudden Connor's throat was clogging up and his eyes were prickling, and he could already feel tears gliding down his cheeks, but he didn't give a fuck.

At last, Sam moved and tried to prop himself up. Dean helped him off Connor's lap and steadied him as he pulled his pants up.

"You wanna lie down for a bit?" Dean asked as he wiped Sam's cheeks.

"No. I want to finish the research," Sam replied.

"It's okay, I got it," Dean started to turn but Sam put a hand on his arm.

"No. It's my part that's not finished. I'm gonna finish it," his voice carried a resolve that sounded well beyond his years.

Dean studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. Wait a second." He grabbed a pillow off the bed, took it to the kitchenette and put it on the chair. "There you go."

Sam walked over to the table and looked at the chair, but didn't sit down. "You said you were gonna get yourself OJ. Get me some too?"

"Sure," Dean turned to the fridge, and Sam moved the pillow to the nearby chair, and then sat down, squirming a little before settling in his seat.

Dean came back to the table with two glasses of orange juice and stopped short as he saw the pillow. "Sam, I got that for you."

"I don't deserve it right now. I want you to sit on it," Sam picked up the pen and flipped through the pages of the lore book. "Where did you get to?"

Dean just stood there with a glass in each hand, eyes skipping from the pillow to Sam, and then came to the table, put the glasses down and took a seat on the padded chair. "To the chapter about the swamps in Ireland. Lemme see…"

Connor sat on the bed and watched as Dean's blond head leaned close to Sam's golden-brown one, both bent over the tome. He could still feel the tears on his cheeks; they weren't running anymore, just slowly drying away. He should probably get up and wash his face, but instead he stayed where he was, watching Sam and Dean as they worked through the yellowing pages, random smiles lighting their faces every now and again.

It was so wrong, all of it. Dad shouldn't have had the boys do research for his goddamned hunt. Dad shouldn't have let the boys anywhere near the hunting life in the first place. It wasn't normal, it wasn't safe, and Connor wished they would have never, ever found out about the things that went bump in the night.

It was wrong, but it was water under the bridge now. Under an old, broken bridge, burned to ashes long ago.

Connor got up and went to start dinner.

**Author's Note:**

> Like my works? Want to subscribe and get updates on new stories? Make sure you subscribe to the **user** and not the specific work!


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